


Migraine

by emetoandotherthings



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Headaches & Migraines, Illnesses, Sick Character, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18760693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emetoandotherthings/pseuds/emetoandotherthings
Summary: Prompt: someone with a migraine so bad they puke would be A++ my friendWarning: Includes vomiting





	Migraine

Inputting data was one of Eppie’s least favourite parts of her degree, but she had to do it as her lap report required them, which meant long periods of time copying details from her notebook to the computer. She was using a ruler to try and avoid losing her place, but even then the digits kept running into one another. She’d been sat in the lab trying to finish the data for this assignment due first thing in the morning. Around her the rest of the lab was frantic – nearly every inch of available workspace was taken up by people trying to panic finish their practical element before they could start writing up their report. Half of Eppie was glad that she’d finished that section so she wasn’t panicking with tests that might not work first time – but the other part of her just wanted the data bit to be over. She counted down the rows left to input – twenty-four and then she’d be done. 

She looked up at the computer screen and blinked, her eyes struggling to bring the text into focus. She rubbed her eyes and a fuzzy white flow seemed to emanate from the monitor; then at the back of her neck there was a twinge as she tried to resume her entry of her results. As Eppie bent forwards to read her handwriting, a pain began at the back of her head and felt like a scalpel slicing up the back of her head. Placing her hand to the back of her head she almost expected to feel blood there. She looked down at the notebook and felt her heart sink as the fuzzy white light appeared on the paper. She knew what was coming, and it couldn’t be worse timing – a faint ringing in Eppie’s ears announced the arrival of a migraine. 

Closing her notebook, she saved her data and sent it to herself via email, she had to act quickly before the pain in the back of her head turned into a full blown meltdown. She shoved her stuff haphazardly into her bag and left the lab, the white fuzz in her vision moving with her as she walked along the corridor. 

By the time Eppie arrived at her car there was a sensation like two rocks grinding together in the temple of her head. She sat in the driver’s seat taking deep breaths – in through her nose and out through her mouth, as the steady throbbing started behind her eyes. She knew she probably shouldn’t be driving, but walking would be even more trouble. 

The noise of the ignition felt like a jackhammer drilling into her skull. The intense concentration of driving made the compressed feeling worse, and when she pulled into the driveway of her flat, both her arms were trembling. Her lips were tingling like they had pins and needles, and the pain had radiated from the base of her skull through her brain and had settled right behind her eye sockets. Her hand slipped on the door handle and the effort of pushing the door open sent pain shooting through the rest of her body. 

Moving was an extra effort, she took her time to bring her legs round to get out of the car and screwed up her eyes as her heart leapt into the back of her throat. Her stomach turned over inside her and as she tried to take more deep breaths the sudden buzz from her pocket made her jump, the thudding redoubling inside her head. 

She tried to open her eyes without letting any light in, wincing as daylight poured into her and the brightness of her phone screen made her mouth water as her stomach churned inside her. 

The message was from Eden: ‘Where did you disappear? One minute you were at the computer then you were gone! 😜’

Eppie took a moment before replying: ‘Gone home, think I’m getting a migraine, need to sleep it off.’ She closed her eyes for another second, but she knew the longer she was putting off moving the worse the pain got. 

She gripped her hands on the edges of the car door and levered herself out of the car. Being upright made everything so much worse; it felt like the world was spinning all around her. An unexpected burp worked it’s way up her throat and suddenly a spurt of liquid came bubbling after it and splattered onto the ground at her feet. She pressed her hand to her chest, panting as the nausea overwhelmed her; she stumbled to her front door and shoved haphazardly to get in. The world was too bright, the hum of the central heating too loud, and every time the pain stabbed into her brain her stomach did a nauseating flip and she felt in danger of puking again. 

All she wanted was to be in bed, to sleep and for this migraine to be gone so she could finish her report. She clambered up the stairs using her hands and knees, then used her hand to shield the light from her eyes. Twice she clamped her free hand over her mouth, eyes closed as far as they could be, feeling the beginning of a retch and fighting against it. 

The door to her bedroom felt extra heavy as she pushed it open, and she fumbled her way to the window, pulling the curtains closed and sending the room into blissful darkness. Only then did she cross to her bed and collapse on a heap on top of her covers. Her stomach contracted, but the darkness and quiet and lack of movement was lessening the severity of the pain, so she swallowed repeatedly in the hope that the sick feeling would go away.

Eppie was in that twilight stage between being awake and almost asleep when she heard a bang from somewhere in the house. It registered slowly, but she was too settled to do anything about it. 

Then the squeak of her door was overloud, and her light flicked on, flooding the room with artificial yellow light. Eppie cried out, her hand going up to cover her face, the movement causing a fresh wave of queasiness to wash over her.   
“God, turn the light off!” She petitioned, the light burning through her closed eyelids, and suddenly the light went off. 

“Sorry,” The voice was louder than Eppie could cope with and she hissed, making a sound like an angry cat.

“Can you whisper please?” She requested; the throbbing in her head peaking again.

“Sorry,” the voice whispered back. “I just wanted to check on you, I was worried when you didn’t text back.”

“Eden?” Her own voice felt too loud, rattling through her skull, and her stomach squeezed again. 

“I was worried, you vanished.” He whispered.

“Migraine.” 

“Sorry, can I get you anything?” he asked slowly, Eppie tried to open her eyes but the world seemed to hurtle head over heels. She was about to ask for water but her stomach flipped and she clamped her mouth shut as a retch burst out of her mouth. She pushed her upright, trying to ignore, the stabbing pain behind her eyes – she was going to be sick. 

There was a scrambling and suddenly something was placed into her lap; she felt Eden’s hand firm against the base of her neck. A gurgling belch broke from her, and she took a sharp intake of breath, trying not to cry from the pain, before she was coughing up a wave of sick. 

“Alright, you alright.” Eden rubbed his hand across her back as she belched up another mouthful of puke. The sound of the vomit hitting the container made the pain worse and she could hear whimpering as she heaved dryly into the bin. She could feel the tears dribbling down her cheeks as she hung her head, exhausted. “Let me take this,” Eden whispered, easing the bin from her grip. “You lie down, I’ll get you some water.” She flopped back onto the bed, breathing slowly and deeply. 

The next thing Eppie was aware of she was entangled in her bed covers; she was way too warm, her boot was digging into her calf, her whole body felt weak and shaky, but the sharp pain was gone. All that was left was the residual heaviness in her head that was always the aftermath of a migraine. She sat up slowly, opening her eyes and noticing the bottle of water next to her on the bed. Her hands were limp as she screwed the top of the bottle off and gulped some down; she kicked off her boots, taking another drink. All she could remember was Eden helping her as she puked up her guts. Well, that was only marginally embarrassing. She slid off the edge of her bed, padding through to the kitchen to refill the water bottle; considering whether to have a shower now and finish her report, or leave it to the morning. 

“You’re awake!” Eden’s voice came out of the corner of her kitchen, and Eppie jumped, dropping the bottle in her hand. 

“Jesus Christ Eden! You’re still here?” He stood up from the chair, stooping to pick up the bottle. 

“I was really worried about you,” His voice rang of such genuine concern that Eppie was touched; he refilled the bottle and handed it across to her. 

“It was just a migraine.” Eppie replied, taking another sip to avoid showing how embarrassed she felt. “I – uh – thanks for helping me.”

“It’s no problem,” Eden shook his head and wrung his hands. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, the pain’s gone,” she nodded, “I told you I’d just sleep it off.”

“You didn’t say that…” Eden commented.

“In my text?” Eppie looked up at him and saw the confused expression on his face. 

“Your message was total gobbledegook… Eden said, “That’s why I was so worried that I came to check on you.”

“What?” She pulled out her phone and opened her messages. Instead of the three sentences she thought she’d written, there was just strings of random letters, barely a coherent word at all. “Oh… I honestly thought I’d made sense. It must have been the migraine affecting my eyes.”

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Eden said. “You gave me a proper fright.”

“Sorry…” She mumbled.

“No, don’t be sorry,” he shook his head, “but next time you need to find a better way of letting me know what’s going on – like calling me.”

“Yeah, alright.” 

 


End file.
